


the moon is distant from the sea

by ShanaStoryteller



Series: where thou art, that is home [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Lust, M/M, Pining, facebook ruined everything, mark has a smart kink, or possibly stress baking, ten year age difference, whoops here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaStoryteller/pseuds/ShanaStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three year long story about the lust (love?) that grows between Mark Hale and Danny Mahealani.<br/>This started out a little thing, but also kinda grew into a peak into the Hales not from Stiles perspective, so cool<br/>Started at hittwf, and spanning until assan. </p><p>"Danny doesn't try to be popular. He just likes people, and he likes Jackson because he values loyalty and he likes Lydia because she's a freaking genius, and sometime around middle school they both became very concerned about being popular. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	the moon is distant from the sea

**Author's Note:**

> requested by kit-moosebuckle at my tumblr! 
> 
> if you would also like to send me a prompt, or just harass me, you can do so at: shanastoryteller.tumblr.com 
> 
> this fic was previously placed in a different series for extras off of this universe, but I decided that would be silly. So instead of marking the series complete after the christmas fic (WHICH I'M TRYING TO HAVE UP BY CHRISTMAS I'M REALLY SORRY GUYS FINALS KILLED ME) i'll just accept the fact that i'll probably be adding things to this universe indefinitely. 
> 
> i hope you like it!

The Moon is distant from the Sea

And yet, with Amber Hands

She leads Him – docile as a Boy

Along appointed Sands

 

He never misses a Degree

Obedient to Her eye

He comes just so far – toward the Town

Just so far – goes away

 

Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand

And mine – the distant Sea

Obedient to the least command

Thine eye impose on me

 

\- Emily Dickinson

 

Danny doesn't _try_ to be popular. He just likes people, and he likes Jackson because he values loyalty and he likes Lydia because she's a freaking genius, and sometime around middle school they both became very concerned about being popular. They're both a little damaged and a lot reckless, but Danny threw his lot in with them years ago, so he's just along for the ride.

Then they're fifteen and Stiles isn't popular so much as well known. He runs with the Hales, and they're all good looking and dangerous and not to be trifled with. The only semi approachable one is Cory, who's as attractive as the rest, but also a stunning actress and a decent swimmer. She's popular in the same way Danny is, for being pretty and likeable, and her boyfriend Lyle's popular in the same way Jackson is, so she tends to also go along for the ride and Lydia _shouldn't_ be jealous of her, but she is, just a little.

Stiles and Scott try out for lacrosse, and Stiles actually makes first line. Then they get taken into the fold, start going on runs with Stiles and catch rides with Cory and Cora, and he always thought that Derek Hale's relationship with Stiles was weird, but he hasn't even met the guy yet and he knows how properly dysfunctional they are.

Things change soon after, and they knew there were secrets they weren't being told, but he didn't think it was these. Stiles presses his hand to Danny's chest, and grins to hide his nervousness, but he doesn't even care, not at all, not even a little, not when Stiles takes away the lock from his soul and god, it's like having spent his whole life with a cloth wrapped his mouth and then breathing freely, it's amazing.

Stiles teaches him and Lydia how to do impossible things and he knows then that he'll follow Stiles anywhere.

 

He's heard of Mark, seen those ridiculous family photos around the Hale house, ridiculous because this whole family looks like models. He knows he's human, knows that he attended Columbia and then Harvard Law, that he works at the firm Pearson & Specter, but there are so many Hales to keep track of, and so many fucked up things happening around town, that it's only when it's all over, Stiles alive and all is well and the wendigos dead and gone, that he remembers that the elder Hales are back in town.

Derek and Stiles are more codependent and gross than he'd thought possible, even with all of Cory and Cora's ribbing. Laura is terrifying and competent and going to make a scarily excellent alpha one day.

Mark is beautiful.

 

"He's sixteen," Laura mocks, and Mark longs for the days when locking the door was actually and effective way to keep her out.

He shoves the case file into his desk drawer, because this shit is actually private, "I know. It's not like Derek is going to push him into anything, it's not like he _could_. He's his anchor, for fucks sake."

Laura tosses herself onto his bed, and he twitches, he made that bed with hospital bed corners this morning, "Not _Stiles_ , I wish Derek would get on that, at least a little, their mutual adoration society is disgusting. No, Danny."

Mark spins the chair to face her, tucking one of his feet underneath his thigh and leaning his elbow on his knees, "Which one is Danny again?"

"You know which one," she scowls, "the gorgeous one who's been blushing at you every time he's been over. Do you have any idea how many times Danny blushed before you? Like, twice, according to Mom."

"I'm very pretty," he agrees, tugging the file back out if only because he'd rather look at it than her, "it happens."

"Danny's very pretty too," Laura mocks, rolling around on his bed, and it's going to smell like her now, not in any way he can pick up, but it will. He's going to switch it with Cory's comforter before he goes to sleep, he doesn't even care that it's purple. "But you're not allowed to touch the pretty until the pretty is legal."

"You know, Smegal, I'm a lawyer," he says, "and not only am I perfectly aware of the age of consent in California, but I'm also not interested in Stiles's new group friends. Although I'll grant you the redhead is terrifying."

Laura smirks, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, "You're _fascinated_. A new batch of humans, and Danny - he smells like potting soil, you know, he has the magic of the earth. Except he can't command it the same way our little mage can, no, can't demand obedience. Instead he must seduce an agreement from her. Must present his argument with his magic and convince her he is worthy to follow." He swallows, and Laura cocks her head so her hair falls over half her face, "That doesn't do anything for you, even a little?"

Mark closes the file with deliberate care, even smoothing out the bent edges from when he's shoved it in the drawer. "Laura, you're my sister, and I love you. But I think it's better if you leave now."

She pouts, but if living together in New York had taught her anything it's how hard she can push him before he snaps. "Whatever, big brother." She pats his head on her way out, and he does his best not to flinch.

He stares at the edge of his battered desk with the ink stain on it until Cory slides in, closing the door behind her. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and kisses the side of his forehead, "Laura giving you a hard time?"

"Doesn't she always?" he leans back into her, and he's missed her more than he's missed the others, his cousin and his best friend and the only one who ever learned to read the lines of sadness or anger along his shoulders, since she couldn't smell the difference.

"You were the one who was stupid enough to live with her," she says, and he turns so that she can clamber into his lap, far too big for it at seventeen but neither of them care. She tucks her head under his chin, "Danny's a good person. Just - for future reference."

He takes a deep breath, and Cory smells like lavender and her morning cup of coffee, "I'm ten years older than him. He's a child."

"Hardly," she scoffs, "no more than I am. And it's not like he's going to _stay_ that way."

Mark stands up and tosses her on the bed, tickling her until her shrieks get high enough that all the wolves in the house are probably flinching.

 

His daughter is gone to talk to a human that got caught in the latest crossfire - Ian or Ibrahim or something - which means she gets to skip out on Christmas Eve dinner. Considering it's _everyone_ , Stiles and his groupies and their families too, means Peter is less hurt by this than he is violently jealous.

Talia is smirking at him from across the table, and Peter stick his tongue out at her. John starts laughing beside him, and Peter turns his glare onto the older man, "Shut it. There's far too many people at this table right now. Although," his gaze flits to the recent trio of humans, "less than there should be. Where are their families? We invited them."

John's laughter dies, "Ah. Danny's mom is campaigning, and the family is in Minnesota. Jackson's dad's firm has a mandated holiday party, and Lydia's parents are in Paris."

"None of them invited their children?" Peter demands, and it takes a conscious effort to stop his eyes from flashing.

"All of them did," he says with a grin, "They declined." Peter grumbles and slumps down in his seats, although he's suddenly far less annoyed at the people in the house. John nudges his shoulder, "Speaking of, where's Cory?"

"With a boy," Peter takes a slow sip a wine to hide his smile when John chokes.

"Lyle? Is she having dinner with him and his parents?"

He scoffs, "No, of course not. I do wonder when she'll tire of him - he'd be _here_ if she was serious about him. She's dealing with - oh, for heaven's sake, DANIEL!"

The younger boy jumps, and Peter feels a well of amusement as Danny tears himself from his conversations with Peter's nephew, "Yes?"

"What's the boy's name, the one my daughter is with?"

"Isaac," Danny sighs, "we told you this before. A couple of times."

Peter dismisses him with a wave of his hand, turning back to John, "Isaac. Apparently they got in a disagreement with him, and Cory is soothing ruffled feathers, and all that."

"Isaac Lahey?" John clarifies, "The mortician's kid?"

Peter shrugs, sliding his phone out of his pocket in spite of Kevin's disapproval, "Sure, I guess. John, how much do you think I really pay attention?' He doesn't look up from his phone, typing out, _so mark and danny? seriously?_

"It doesn't bother you?" John makes a pointed effort not to look at Stiles, "Her running out and about all the time? It doesn't worry you."

"Of course it does," he sighs, taking another long sip of wine, "She's beautiful and too smart for her own good, and the world doesn't take kindly to women like her - women like my sister, Laura, Cora and the lovely Miss Martin. But I don't need to trust the world, just her."

John's given up all pretence, staring at his son who's half slumped against Jackson with his at least one leg tossed onto Derek's lap, "And that's easy for you? To trust her?"

Peter holds out John's wine glass to him until he sighs and takes it. He taps his glass against John's and says simply, "Yes."

Cory texts him back sometime around two in the morning, and Peter wakes up just enough to bring up the message. _Right?? Whatever, Mark's not doing anything anytime soon. Merry Christmas Dad. I love you._

_love you more sweetheart_

Peter falls back asleep with his phone tucked close to his chest.

 

Mark's head is foggy but Laura keeps yelling at him, trying to drag him upright and keep him there, and he has a huge case tomorrow and he only went to bed an hour ago, and fuck, Harvey is going to kill him if he screws up. "What?" he snarls, batting Laura's hands away, "What the fuck is so important you feel the need to wake me up in the middle of the fucking night?" He blinks away his sleepiness, because Laura's eyes are wide and her skin is pale. "Laura, what happened?"

She licks her lips before she answers, "There was an attack. Everyone's alive, but - Scott got bitten, but he's strong, he should handle the transformation fine, and - Mark, Derek - he's an alpha."

Mark tugs Laura down so she's seated beside him, rubbing his thumbs against her inner wrists, trying to sooth her racing pulse, "Hey. Is he okay?"

She nods, "He's fine - he, they all are, I think. I mean Stiles got really torn up, but Danny should be able to take care of that I think, and-"

"Sssh," Mark tucks her head under his chin, "hey, it's fine, it's going to be okay. So the dynamic will be a little off for a while, that's okay. Derek has certainly caused bigger messes than this."

She laughs, and if sounds a little watery he doesn't call her on it, "He's such a useless little brother. Never causes anything but panic and worry."

"That's why we have Stiles - although I'm not sure how he'll fix this one."

"He'll find a way," she says, something between wry and confident, and he hides his smile in her hair, "We need to go home."

"You go pack, I'll buy the tickets," he says, internally wincing at his boss's reaction. He'll email Mike and let the rest take care of itself.

Laura nods and hugs him tighter, says "Okay," and doesn't move.

It's Cory and Cora that meet them, and it's five thirty in the morning and they both look exhausted, but both he and Laura sweep them up in hugs. They can't talk without their super powered family members overhearing them, so Mark tilts his heads head and Cory smirks. Some of the tension he's been carrying the whole plane ride over here leaks out, because for better or worse someone has worked out a plan. He hopes it wasn't Peter.

 

He's not in the same pack as his brother anymore. His uncle and his cousin no longer answer to Mom, and Stiles and Scott aren't technically theirs now. Cory and he aren't in the same pack, and it shouldn't hurt like this, because they haven't even been on the same side of the country for years and they're human, it's not just the same for them as it is for the rest of the family, but when Cory crawls into bed with him that night he doesn't say anything, just wraps her up in his arms. They're human, the only real humans left now, with Derek having bitten the others and Stiles and his coven not even close to counting.

"You're still my favorite," she whispers, and he squeezes her as tight as he can, this one person who understands him, who knows what it's like to be both a human and Hale, understands the look on other packs' faces when they realize what you are and what you're not. "This doesn't have to change anything."

He laughs, and it sounds like a sob, "Of course it does."

"No," she pushes away so she can look him in the eye, "for the rest of them, yeah, of course. But for you and me this means nothing - screw politics and rules. You're still my absolute favorite, and you mean everything to me, do you understand? I don't care whether our alpha is Talia or Derek - you're still my best friend."

He smiles and tugs her close again, "Okay. Yes."

She relaxes against him and says, pure innocence, "Besides, maybe you'll marry into Derek's pack. So does Danny look unexpectedly attractive in red, or are ratty lacrosse sweats a turn on for you?"

"Oh my god," he moans, "No, stop talking."

"He's seventeen now," she says cheerfully, "and did you know he's a hacker? Brilliant really, an extremely analytical, quick thinking mind -"

He groans and turns away from her to try to smother himself in the pillow, "He's still a child."

She scoffs, "He's loyal and brilliant and has the patience of a saint. And he's hot like burning. You could do worse. You _have_ done worse. Rebecca -"

He flips back over to cover her mouth with his hand, "Hush, no. We do not mention Rebecca, especially in this house. The rest of the family remains blissfully ignorant of that part of my sordid past, let's keep it that way."

She giggles before settling down again, "He thinks you're super cute, you know."

"I am super cute," he says with as much dignity as he can manage, which judging by Cory's reignited laughter isn't much.

 

"Shit," he tosses the bloody cutting knife in the sink, and for the millionth time curses his lack of super healing ability. He glares at the freshly baked bread, like it's the loaf's fault that he wasn't paying attention. Whatever, he doesn't even like pumpernickel, Cora can cut her own goddamn bread. He presses a dishtowel to the wound, and on one hand it's deep and painful, but on the other he's got brownies in the oven that will burn if he bothers to go to the hospital.

He's already decided he's just going to get his uncle to stitch it up when a tentative voice says "I can fix that."

Mark looks up, and Danny is wearing pajama pants slung low on his hip and a t-shirt that judging by the size is probably Stiles's. "What?" he says, jerking his eyes back up to the younger boy's face, as if that's any less attractive than the rest of him. His eyes flicker back down to Danny's hands, because he is a weak man, and he imagines him using those hands to break into government databases or direct the magic of the earth and fuck, he's got such a problem.

"I can fix that," he steps forward, and those long fingers wrap around his wrist to tug his injured hand close, "It looks pretty deep, man." Any protest he had dies when Danny removes the dish towel and ghosts his fingers over the wound, only instead of hurting it's a small pulse of warmth and comfort before his jagged cut disappears.

"Amazing," he breathes as Danny uses the dishtowel to mop up the remaining blood from his unbroken skin, "Seriously, that's incredible."

Danny's blushing when Mark catches his eye, "Thanks - uh, thank you. Um," he glances around the kitchen, "are you doing okay? Is something wrong?" Mark must make a face at that, because he hurries to say, "I mean, it's just," he gestures to the counter overflowing with bread and pastries, "Stiles mentioned you're a stress baker."

He grins, and tries not to start blushing himself when Danny's flush deepens, "Derek causes me stress. He is stressful. Also, Cora hasn't harassed me yet and that means she plotting to do something horrible, which then adds to the stress."

Danny slumps against the counter a little too ungracefully to be natural, "You should try having to handle Stiles. I love him, I do, but I honestly have no idea how Scott and Derek don't strangle him."

"That is a true mystery," Mark places his hands on Danny's shoulders, "Come on, sit down, I should have remembered Cory mentioned that you get tired after healing. I'll pour us some coffee and we can eat all the best of everything I've made." He hesitates, "If you want."

"That'd be great," he says with so much painful earnestness that Mark has to retreat to the other side of the kitchen and start fussing with the coffee maker to keep from doing something irredeemably stupid, like kiss him.

 

"So," Jackson says after the fifth post grad's house he's picked him up from the morning after, and Danny is actually incredibly impressed that it's taken this long, "Are we going to talk about this or is this not a thing we talk about?"

Danny buckles himself in, and decides Jackson has amazing self control because even without werewolf senses he is well aware he smells like alcohol and sweat, "Where going to call this displacement, and leave it at that."

Jackson manages almost half the way home to Danny's house before breaking, "Seriously? Look, I don't care about the age thing, but - he's a _Hale_ , and a _lawyer_."

Danny blinks, "We like the Hales. A lot. And you're going to be lawyer."

"Not a Harvard one," Jackson scowls, "And I'm not going to work at Pearson Hardman."

He has plenty of experience dealing with his best friend's insecurities, he really does, but even he hesitates before saying, "You don't have to be a lawyer."

"I want to be a lawyer," he turns onto Danny's road.

Danny makes sure he's facing Jackson, just in case he looks over, "You don't have to work for your father. You could go to a different firm."

Jackson's hands tighten around to the steering wheel and for a moment Danny's afraid he's going to snap it. But then he takes a deep breath, and almost looks calm by the time he pulls up to Danny's driveway. "Lydia told me to remind you that you have a meeting with Stiles for lunch. Danny," he grabs his friend's wrist before he can try to leave the car, and Jackson's face is unusually serious, "You know I support you, in whatever it is that you want to do, and I'm not trying to imply you can't take care of yourself, but if any of these guys aren't - if they don't - look, if something you don't like happens, I will kill them. My father's a lawyer and we've through some grand mistake on our part acquired friends who are used to burying bodies, and if they mess with you they will be dead."

Danny grins, because everyone who wondered why he was friends with Jackson clearly never got to see him like this, "Aw, is that concern? I think it is, for little ol' me."

Jackson rolls his eyes and lets go of his wrist to shove his shoulder, "Fuck you, asshole. Get the hell out of my car," but it comes out fond, and Danny makes sure to make kissy faces at him his entire backwards walk up the driveway.

 

If Mark doesn't log out Facebook soon Harvey's going to notice, so he takes a deep breath and accepts the friend request from a high schooler and tries to pretend he hasn't lost complete control of his life.

And then it gets worse, oh so much worse, because Danny messages him and he's funny and quick witted and _smart_ , and he's got such a kink for intelligence it's unreal. So a couple times a month  he'll find himself dragged into conversations about computer law, and internet privacy laws, or even a new recipe that he tried and failed miserably, or how if Laura doesn't get out of his face he's going to punch her, he doesn't actually care if it'll hurt him more than her. Then when she moves back home a little sadness, some loneliness. Danny mocks him, but talks of his own sister and what's going on with the pack and how Lydia is growing stronger in leaps and bounds and how Stiles is really quite terrifyingly powerful even without full access to his powers, and sometimes he wonders where he fits between them despite Stiles's mark gleaming on his wrist.

There's months of this, this slow exchange of information and hopes and fears without a hint of anything inappropriate. Then it shows up, the corner of his screen one morning, that Danny Mahealani is eighteen today, and he can't focus on work the whole morning.

 

He's been handling the pack negations just fine, alpha or not he's still a _lawyer_ , but when Laura suggests coming down and bringing either Mom or Derek back up with him he jumps on it, and doesn't examine too hard why.

 

Danny hadn't _known_ , Mark hadn't _told him_. So he walks upstairs to grab a book for Lydia from the Hale library, and he's right there. After almost a year he's back, and he looks less tired this time, but just as gorgeous, and there's even a little grey starting to dust at his temples and he shouldn't find that hot, not at all, but he does.  He must make a noise, or move or something, because Mark looks up from the book he was reading, and god his eyes, his _lips_ , his beautiful full pink lips. "Danny?"

He opens his mouth, thinks of what he'd say if Mark was just a friend, of what he'd say if he was one of the older guys he picked up at the club, but instead what comes out is, "I'm eighteen."

Mark swallows, setting his book aside, "I know. I - I saw it. On facebook."

He's never seen Mark blush before but he's blushing now, and Danny is subtle, he is a subtle person, he does not take after their resident High Mage, but he's also been waiting three goddamn years and screw it. He's across the room, pulling the older man upright and sliding their mouths together, and doesn't try to repress the glee that he's taller than the eldest Hale.

Mark resist him for all of two seconds, but then he's pressing Danny up against the nearest vertical surface and clawing at his clothes, and this has happened to Danny before, in the manner that he's young and beautiful and men love touching him, but none of those men where the unfairly attractive, intelligent Mark Hale and that makes this better, makes it perfect. When Mark gasps out "Bed?" already half naked, Danny groans and drags him to the closest one which happens to be Cora's, and he puts a locking spell on the door, because he's been waiting three years for this and someone will take the opportunity from his cold dead fingers.

"You're beautiful," Mark groans as Danny moves inside him, eyes open and cheeks flushed, and something vulnerable about it all. He has to bend to capture Mark's mouth in his, because it undoes him, just a little, that honesty, the openness in his eyes.

He comes first, and he'd more upset by that if it didn't mean he got his mouth on Mark's dick, the older man's hands in his hair and hips kept agonizing still even as twitches and cries from it, and yes, just, god, Danny could stay like this forever if only it meant keeping that look on Mark's face.

After, when they're both exhausted and sticky, Marks runs his knuckles over Danny's back, and the younger man finds himself certain that he's been ruined for sex with other men not known as Mark Hale.

 

Laura has been sending him smug looks for two days straight, Cora still hasn't forgiven him and still hasn't enacted her revenge, and Cory's too busy having sex with Isaac to be used as a distraction so he gives in, accepts that he's well and truly gone. He'd be pestering Derek about how to handle falling for someone younger, except that Derek didn't so much fall in love with Stiles as grow into loving him, and god, his younger brother is saccharinely sweet and gross with his love life.

He won't be intimidated by an eighteen year old he already knows at least finds him physically attractive, so he pulls out his phone and types, _they're all absolutely insufferable and i can't take it any longer. dinner?_

Danny, gratifyingly, responds within two minutes. _Every time Derek sees me he gives me a look of betrayal and pain. And absolutely, as long as I can have you for dessert._

 _that can be arranged,_ he sends back, and it puts him in such a good mood he almost doesn't feel the need to smother Laura when she starts cackling again.

Almost.


End file.
